


the red in her ledger

by softromanoff



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Also the red room is fucked up, Because she's brainwashed, Black Widow academy, But also not, I'm still not over endgame, Natasha Romanoff is a lil baby and needs to be protective, Natasha Romanoff must be protected, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov is a badass, Red Room, Red Room Stuff, She's kinda evil, brainwashed little girls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softromanoff/pseuds/softromanoff
Summary: Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?Drakov's daughter, São Paulo, the hospital fire. Barton told me everything.Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Drakov's daughter

Natalia stood over the body of Igor Drakov, staring at the pool of blood forming around the crown of his head, a trickle of the red liquid flushed out of the place in his neck in which she had stabbed him with a knife.

It had been a quick death, some might even consider it to be merciful after all that she had done to retrieve information from him.

However Natalia still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that was seeping into the back of her mind. After all, she was only 10 years old, her ledger only had a few splashes of red tainting it.

“Papa?”

Natalia turned around in a flash when she heard the voice, she quickly slipped the gun from her belt and raised it.

She couldn’t have been any older than Natalia herself, she looked so small and scared. Her mouth open and her arms looped around each other as if hugging herself provided her with comfort.

She seemed unable to move, big brown eyes moving upwards to stare into Natalia’s green ones.

Natalia tilted her head and looked at the girl properly, still not lowering her gun. She had read in the file given to her that Drakov had a daughter, but she hadn’t thought much of it as she assumed the little girl would be sound asleep in her bed.

_No witnesses, no survivors._

The little girl broke out of her paralysis and backed towards the door, eyes filling with tears.

“Papa?”

_You must not leave anyone alive, otherwise you would do a sloppy job._

The little girl reached the door handle and pushed it open. Her face contorted into an expression of disbelief and utter terror as the realisation that her father would not be getting up dawned on her.

“PAPA!”

_And you don’t want to be sloppy now do you?_

No, Natalia did not want to be sloppy.

The little girl broke into a run. She was quick, but Natalia was quicker.

She reached the girl and clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. The other girl thrashed in her grip and tried to free herself, scratching and grasping at Natalia’s hands.

Natalia couldn’t use the gun, the gun was too loud, and she had left the knife besides Drakov’s corpse. A mistake on her part.

She looked down at the girl and her eyes landed on the string that tied her little nightgown together.

 _No witnesses, no survivors_.

The little girl sobbed furiously as Natalia ripped the pretty white string from her nightgown.

“PAPA! PAPA! HELP ME!” She screamed against Natalia’s hand, her hot tears trickling down her cold face.

As Natalia released her hand from her mouth and brought the string to her neck, the girl screamed again, but the sound was cut off by the air escaping her lungs. She coughed, she wheezed, she gagged.

She thrashed and kicked and punched, a blow landing on Natalia’s face causing her mouth to fill with the taste of metal and rust.

Each kick became weaker, each punch thrown with less conviction, each desperate cry becoming quieter.

Natalia looked up at the sky as the little girl slowly died in her arms, strangled by her own pretty white string.

One last kick, one last punch, one last cry, and then the little girl stilled.

Natalia stayed where she was, knelt on the floor, looking up at the sky.

She slid the string from the girl’s neck. The flesh that had been once a rosy pink was now pale and covered in bruises.

Drakov’s daughter was dead.

Natalia lifted her hand to her face and wiped her mouth with the back of her palm.

She looked down at her hand.

It was covered in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't attack me because the dialogue's not in Russian or something like that. I felt like putting in translations would take away from the atmosphere of the chapter.
> 
> This is not at all edited and it shows ahah (I’m sorry lmao).
> 
> Anyways thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Ly all<3


	2. São Paulo

Natalia was fourteen.

  
She stood carefully out of sight in the shadows, clutching the pouch that she had just received closely to her chest.

  
She was in the favela of Sao Paulo, where everything around her oozed poverty in every way possible; the peeling paint of the clumped together houses (if one could even consider them houses), the children and elderly begging on the street, their lips chapped and their cheeks hollowed out.

  
Desperation makes people to desperate things for the hope that they would be able to have something for dinner.

  
They were frantic for money and had no reservations on how to get it, it was rather pathetic.

  
Then again it was this pathetic weakness was what allowed her to buy poison without the man at the counter giving her a second glance.

  
She had to move fast, however, she was losing time. If she was late she would miss her window and then she would have to resort to plan B, and she didn’t want to have to resort to plan B.

  
She pinched her nose when a strong odor wafted into her nostrils, her face scrunching up in distaste.  
She had the pouch, now it was time to get out of here. 

  
She quickly weaved through the streets, red hair wrapped in a dark scarf that flowed behind her as she walked, she hated her hair, it was too recognizable, not ideal for an assassin.

  
When the houses began to get larger, and the air clearer, Natalia slowed her pace. She wasn’t in the favelas anymore, no, she was approaching the homes of the rich and powerful.

  
The soon to be dead rich and powerful.

  
She ran through the backstreets, behind the gilded mansions and the well kept lawns, behind the bright lights and gargantuan columns, until she reached her destination.

  
It was the US ambassador’s home, where tonight he was hosting a dinner with many powerful Brazilian political people and their families, to celebrate the upcoming holidays.

  
There would be champagne, wine, turkey, Pao de Queijo, coxinhas, farofa, barbecue meats, and of course, desert, Brigadeiros.

  
Everyone loved Brigadeiros, and amongst all of the creamy, delicious cream and chocolate, no one would notice a few little specks of brown powder.  
So small yet so deadly, very much like Natalia.

  
She grabbed one of the many weaved baskets packed with ingredients before slipping in through the backdoor where maids, servers, and cooks rushed around to bring everything the to the guests. Shouted orders in English and Portuguese creating such a commotion that no one cared about the little girl clutching a small basket in her hand.

  
Her eyes carefully flitted around the kitchen until they landed on where a woman was rolling the cream into small little balls and filling them with fresh strawberries, she already had around a hundred lined up, and would surely soon be finished.

  
“Amanda, you almost finished with those?”

  
The woman looked up to the man who had shouted the question to her, and she nodded. She had a kind face, with kind eyes, she looked exhausted and overwhelmed by the heat and noise of the bustling kitchen, her pale skin flushed red.

  
And yet as she slumped back in relief, finally having finished rolling up the brigadeiro balls, she still managed to smile as Natalia approached her with a bright smile of her own.

  
“Hello, I’m supposed to bring these to Miss Amanda but I don’t know where to go.” She said, lifting the basket and bringing her lower lip up into a pout.

The woman – Amanda – looked down at her. “Oh sugar, I’m afraid someone else already dropped off everything I needed earlier, and I’m done now.”

  
Natalia looked down, and put on her most dejected face. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just so full of people here,” she looked up, “I don’t know where to go.”

  
Amanda looked torn, but then smiled at her. “If you watch these sweets for me, I’ll put this away for you ok?” She placed a hand on Natalia’s shoulder.

Natalia nodded gratefully to the woman, thanking her as she walked off with the basket.

  
As soon as she had disappeared into the storage area, Natalia moved over to the first dessert platter.

  
She shielded the plate with her body and then very quickly sprinkled the tiniest bit of poisonous powder over it. She then moved over to the second plate, and then the third.

  
When she had finished she quickly moved over to where she was standing a minute ago, and Amanda returned smiling at her.

  
“Everything’s sorted out now, love, you don’t need to worry anymore.

  
Natalia flashed her a bright smile. “Thank you, thank you so much!” She ran over and hugged her.

  
Amanda chuckled, unbeknownst to the fact that Natalia was slipping her little pouch into one of the cook’s large pockets.

  
Natalia pulled back, waved goodbye, and then headed back out to the door. Now all she had to do was watch and wait.

  
She made her way around the manor, until she could hear the sounds of music and laughter coming from a large glass window. 

  
There were children, playing around with each other sat at the table. They were pulling at the tablecloths, pushing each other, whilst their desperate nannies chased them around, trying to get them to keep still.

  
These children had never known, and never would know hardship. They grew up sheltered, spoiled, and loved, a stark contrast to Natalia’s own childhood. 

  
They had everything handed to them, they had never had to prove their worth, never had to fight for their lives.

  
They fought over the Brigadeiros as they were brought out of the kitchen, their parents chuckling at the foolish little children, and calmly getting their own desserts off a different platter.

  
Natalia kept her eyes glued on the US governor, his gluttonous eyes filling with delight as he filled his plate with the chocolate treats.

  
All was well, until the first of the children began to cough. 

  
It was a young girl, who threw herself onto the ground as spasms coursed through her body. Her parents stood to help, only to fall from their own bloody coughs.

  
There was screaming, and a lot of it. The pained and desperate cries of mothers and children, the angered cries of the men, the confused cries of the servers who rushed in, horrified at the sight before their eyes.

  
Natasha watched as the US governor took one last breath, clawing the table in an attempt to stand, gagging at the blood that dripped from his eyes and mouth, he hit the floor with a thud, staining the patterned marble.

  
He remained still on the floor, facing the ceiling. His eyes glazed over and unseeing.

  
As more and more people began to fill the deadly dinner hall, and the sound of police sirens approached, Natalia slipped away from the edge of the window, sparing one last glance at the people inside.

  
One last glance at pools of blood on the flooring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brigadeiro - a traditional brasilian dessert.
> 
> also this chapter is unedited, sorry for any grammar or spelling errors :)


End file.
